Ghostgirl

  “That was great,” he said as he wiped the water from his eyes, blinded for just a second. In that heartbeat, Scarlet regained control of her body in what was becoming a ridiculous otherworldly tug-of-war.

  “Okay. Pool time’s over,” Scarlet announced like an impatient mom.

  “Why? We were just getting used to the water. I’m kind of confused here,” he said as he swam to the other side of the pool.

  Scarlet dipped back under, pushed off the wall, and swam over to him. As she came up, she brushed her body ever so slightly against his.

  “Well how about I un-confuse you, then?” Scarlet said as the crystal clear water dripped from her black hair, raced down her body and gently fell back into the water. “Close your eyes and tell me which kiss you like better.”

  Damen closed his eyes. Scarlet playfully pinned him in the corner and powerfully planted one on his wet lips.

  “Okay. Compare that one to…,” Scarlet said as she motioned for Charlotte to enter her body.

  “… to this one,” Charlotte said, finishing the sentence.

  Charlotte leaned in to kiss him but hesitated, caught off guard by his beautiful face. She started softly kissing her way up his neck, teasing him and herself. She opened her eyes to look at his lips before she kissed them, but nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw Prue hovering beside the pool.

  “Whorepool!” Prue yelled, ordering the rest of the Dead kids to start swimming in a circle. Charlotte was forced away from Damen by the supernatural vortex just as she was about to kiss him. By this point, she’d had enough of these kinds of déjà vus.

  Scarlet, realizing that she’d rather be humiliated in front of the entire school than face the wrath of Prue’s anger toward Charlotte, panicked and took back her body.

  The whirlpool built up pressure until a wave rose up above the coping, spilling out of the pool and rolling into a wall divider that separated the pool area from the gym. The rushing water rattled the divider and seeped under it and into the gym. The Living kids in Gym class saw the beginning of the flood heading toward them and ran for the exits.

  “Tsunami!!!” they screamed a bit dramatically, warning their classmates, but it was too late for most of them. Gym bags, ball bags, book bags, tracksuits, sweatpants, hoodies, and all kinds of athletic gear were left behind and drenched. Old wooden floorboards came loose, electrical outlets sparked, lights blinked, and circuit breakers popped all over school. It wasn’t quite Biblical, but the damage was significant.

  Most damaging of all, however, was the moment the divider finally fell like a domino. Scarlet and Damen were revealed, huddled together, holding onto each other for dear life, like two Titanic castaways spit ashore by an angry sea.

  Everyone in the gym was more shocked at seeing them together in such a compromising position than they were by the actual path of destruction that was left in the flood’s wake. As the water began to drain out through the doorways, Prue whisked herself and the others back to Hawthorne Manor. Her work here was done.

  The chaos in the gym had yet to come to Principal Styx’s attention, but for the time being, he had an equally catastrophic problem to deal with—meting out Petula’s punishment for the Driver’s Ed incident.

  “Honestly, Principal Styx… I don’t know anything about a car accident. What makes you think it was me?” Petula asked in an inappropriately flirtatious tone.

  “Is this yours?” Styx asked while holding up a tube of lipstick.

  “Where’d you get that?” Petula asked.

  “In the car,” Styx replied.

  Petula ripped the lipstick from his hand and her facial expression transformed from vixen to plotting über-bitch.

  “I’m afraid this incident with the car cannot be overlooked,” he warned. “The damage to the vehicle, the town, the tuba, and the school is considerable. It needs to be accounted for. People could have been hurt or worse,” Styx lectured.

  “But they weren’t,” Petula tossed off dismissively. “Were they, Mr. Shits, I mean, ah, Styx?”

  “I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ban you from the Fall Ball,” Styx said, issuing his verdict.

  “You can’t ban me from the dance! I AM THE DANCE!” Petula screamed. Still looking for a reprieve of any sort, she scanned the disciplinary report and mustered a defense.

  “Wait, your report just says ‘Kensington.’ I have a younger sister!” she argued. “I have evidence. This is her lipstick! Look, it’s crimson. Do I look like I wear crimson?”

  “My decision is final,” he explained, ignorant of Petula’s penchant for pink frosted lip liner and clear glosses.

  Just before Petula could get out another nasty word on her own behalf, Styx’s secretary burst into the office.

  “The gym is flooded!” she yelled excitedly, enjoying all the drama that had just insinuated itself into her humdrum life.

  Principal Styx, still examining the lipstick, and with Petula in tow, ran toward the gym.

  As he arrived to assess the damage and any injury report, Petula spied Damen and Scarlet, still clinging to one another, half naked, but at least out of the water.

  “That’s her!” she ranted. “She did it to steal my boyfriend! MOTIVE!” Petula yelled, but the principal was too busy assessing the damage to pay any attention to her accusations.

  Petula approached them as if they were radioactive and scoffed at the vulnerable and compromised position she as well as the entire student body had discovered them in.

  “Hey, I hear they’re having a sale on scarlet letters at Hot Topic,” Petula said as she looked down her nose at Scarlet.

  “Back off!” Damen demanded as the janitor handed them towels.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Petula snapped, looking ready for a Jerry Springer–style smackdown as she turned back to Scarlet.

  “That’s okay. You can expect these type of outbursts from the calorie-challenged,” Scarlet quipped.

  “No one is ever going to take you seriously. Look at you! You’re a joke,” Petula said, trying her best to humiliate Scarlet in front of Damen.

  “Petula, stop!” Damen yelled.

  Scarlet looked embarrassed and hurt, but she did her best to play if off. Charlotte looked on sadly.

  “He’ll never take you out in public on a real date. What did he say to you, ‘oh, let’s just keep this between me and you’?” Petula probed. “Did he say that?”

  Scarlet fell silent and Damen looked a little guilty.

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” Damen said.

  “You’re a dirty little secret,” Petula said, continuing to slash away at Scarlet.

  “Yeah, well, this dirty little secret is going to the Fall Ball with me!” Damen announced.

  Petula and Scarlet were speechless. Even Damen was surprised that he blurted the proposal.

  Scarlet, numb from the verbal and physical beating she had just taken, wandered off without a word. As she dried off, Charlotte appeared to her.

  “I can’t believe it! We’re going to the dance!” Charlotte exclaimed, barely able to contain herself.

  “I can’t believe you!” Scarlet said in utter disgust. “What, if you can’t have him, no one can… is that it?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Charlotte replied. “You know I didn’t!”

  Scarlet cut her off before she could explain.

  “You almost got me killed too! Every time I agree to let you possess me something horrible happens,” Scarlet berated her. “I can’t let you do this anymore.”

  “Scarlet, please…,” Charlotte pleaded. “Please don’t do this!”

  Scarlet turned away, unable even to face Charlotte, and continued to wring out her clothes. As she did, droplets fell on to Charlotte’s face, making it appear as if she were crying, which is what she wanted to do more than anything.

  20

  To Wish Impossible Things

  In all relationships, there are always aching holes and that’s where the impossible wishes come int
o it.

  —Robert Smith

  Life is random and love can be just as random.

  If you sit back and really think about it, you will be left with one thought—a profound one—why bother? The only reason to live is to love and the only reason to love is to live. Charlotte had neither… at least she didn’t yet. She still loved him. She always would. He was her “why bother.”

  The unmerciful rain fell through Charlotte and to the ground as she walked somberly down the darkened street, lamenting her misfortune. She wished she could feel the cold drizzle against her skin again, but she couldn’t. It was just a reminder that she was as hollow as Damen’s Ovation guitar, and there was not much she was going to be able to do about it now or ever. Nothing could touch her, not even the downpour, she thought as she traversed the accumulating puddles. The truth was, Charlotte had nowhere to go, and there was nowhere to be. No curfew, no one waiting up for her, and no need even to sleep.

  She wandered down the quiet streets until the sky cleared, revealing the final fleeting moments of sunset silhouetted against Hawthorne’s skyline. Even mired in her disappointment, she noticed a cold front blowing through, clearing the dampness but not her conscience. She’d brought embarrassment and pain to her friends and quite possibly condemned herself and her Dead Ed classmates.

  She wasn’t just sad, she was jealous too. She felt cut out. Her plan to win Damen’s love and Petula’s respect had totally backfired, and it was mostly her own doing. Mostly, that is, because some of the blame belonged to Scarlet, right? And to Prue. Charlotte didn’t intend for any of this to happen, she rationalized. It was just collateral damage.

  “Talk about unresolved issues,” she babbled to herself.

  Sunset gave way to evening and evening to night as she continued aimlessly in the bitter cold under the watchful eye of the gables that hovered majestically over all. Being alone in the middle of night, trudging through dark alleys and side streets, would have had anyone else constantly looking over her shoulder, but the only thing Charlotte had to fear was the reality that her dreams would never come true.

  “This is what ghosts do, isn’t it?” she thought out loud, resigning herself to oblivion. “Wander. Repent.”

  As she passed under a stone trestle and through a thicket of dead trees strangled by braided vines, she was unable to stop obsessing over Damen and Scarlet—they were under the same full moon as she was—and wondering what they were doing.

  It was eating her up inside when she inexplicably found herself outside of Damen’s house. It was a place she’d bicycled by many times over the summer. She needed to see that he was sleeping, that he was alone, and that, for the time being, there was nothing happening between him and Scarlet. She needed at least that much peace of mind.

  Charlotte crept up under his window and saw him there, bathed in moonlight, asleep on his twin bed. Maybe, just like her, he needed to drown out all that was wrong, all that was being thrown at him, and to check out for a while. He had one leg sticking out of his blanket, a naked leg, and she could see part of his white boxers peeking out from his green army blanket. She knew that he had volunteered with the Red Cross last summer because she had the newspaper clipping on her mirror, and she thought it was so cool that he was issued an official blanket. His window was cracked a bit to let the dry heat from the radiator escape into the cool fall night. She considered this opening a silent invitation and slipped in.

  She had never been in a guy’s room before, let alone a guy like Damen, and to her surprise it was everything she thought it would be. He was sleeping under a rack of CDs, trophies, and his stereo, which was cranked up so loud she wondered how he could sleep at all.

  After declaring their situation a state of emergency, she slid underneath the Red Cross blanket with him, cuddled close to his warm body, resting her head gently on his chiseled chest. She had nothing to lose and she needed him to herself, for just a little while.

  “Damen?” she whispered desperately into his ear, reaching out to any part of him she might still be able to touch.

  He didn’t respond at first, but then he slowly turned around and opened his eyes, looked deep into her eyes as if they were familiar to him, and then… then… he screamed bloody murder.

  Charlotte flew back against the wall and watched helplessly as he sat up in bed, his body dripping with sweat, in a stressful post-traumatic state. She had penetrated his dream, but not in the way he penetrated hers.

  “I’m his nightmare,” she admitted as she fled his room.

  There was no escape for her. No relief. She had exhausted all possibilities and all her hope was gone, washed away with the heavy rain and Damen’s night sweats.

  Charlotte’s tireless walk of shame lasted the entire night. In the still light of dawn, she changed her direction and headed toward Hawthorne High, where she curled up in a ball on the concrete steps and waited for signs of life. She closed her weary eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  With the morning sun came the buses and staff and students and classes, and with the noise from the last few stragglers, Charlotte awoke and realized she was late for her class. She felt like unpopular roadkill. Like she had been trampled by hundreds of Living kids, which she had. She immediately headed for Dead Ed, but when she arrived, the classroom was empty, with everyone already out in the courtyard for break, except for Prue, who was kept back by Mr. Brain.

  “The swimming pool?” Brain said, fuming. “You, of all people, should know better.”

  “Me?” Prue asked. “Why don’t you talk to the ‘grim weeper’ about that?”

  Prue was tempted to snitch about Scarlet, Damen, all of it, but bit her lip and kept quiet. It was an unspoken code of solidarity among the Dead kids that even Prue’s anger would not allow her to breach.

  “I know you have a problem with Charlotte,” Brain said, “but you are just making things worse.”

  “Things couldn’t be any worse,” Prue cracked.

  “Yes, unfortunately, they could be,” Brain said firmly. “The last seat is filled, Prue, and our time is coming.”

  “… Or not,” Prue said. “She could ruin it for all of us.”

  “Then find a different way to bring her around,” Brain said, stating the obvious. “We are not going anywhere without her.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Prue said. “The other kids are coming along and—”

  “I do.” Brain cut her off. “And so do you.”

  Prue just stared at him vacantly.

  “I know it’s hard for you to step back and let Charlotte take the lead,” Brain said sympathetically. “You’ve always been head of the class.”

  “The lead?” Prue balked. “She’s a follower! She doesn’t care if we are stuck here for Eternity.”

  “Then make her care,” Brain said. “That’s your challenge.”

  “But she never listens,” Prue whined.

  “Sound familiar?” Brain asked knowingly.

  The creaking of a classroom door being opened interrupted their conversation as both Prue and Brain turned to the doorway.

  “Speak of the devil,” Prue said.

  “Hello, Charlotte,” Brain said in a welcoming tone.

  “I guess my time is up,” Prue sniped, her jealousy poking through the words just as Charlotte poked her head into the classroom to see if Brain was free.

  Prue turned and left in a huff, just barely crossing paths with Charlotte, and then telekinetically slamming the door behind her, speaking volumes to both of them about her opinion of Charlotte.

  Not content to leave bad enough alone, Prue turned back to the door, pressed her face against the glass, and slid downward, leaving a gooey trail as she mocked Charlotte’s death.

  “Why does she hate me so much?” Charlotte asked Mr. Brain.

  “She doesn’t hate you, Charlotte,” Brain explained. “But we all need to rely on each other here to achieve a common goal, and so far, you’ve proven yourself to be… undependable.”

&nbs
p; “I’m trying,” she said.

  “Are you?” Brain asked somewhat rhetorically.

  Charlotte thought about it and paused, her demeanor becoming increasingly desperate.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted. “I’m failing at everything that matters to me.”

  “Maybe that’s the lesson, Charlotte,” Brain offered. “You need to stop living and start dying.”

  “I am trying to let go, but every choice I make is the wrong one,” she said dejectedly. “No dance, no Damen, no friends, no house, no life.”

  “You are in complete denial,” Brain said.

  “I worked so hard to get that Midnight Kiss… ah, I mean resolution,” she said, giving herself away.

  “Midnight Kiss?” Mr. Brain asked, beginning to put some pieces together. “Charlotte, I’m asking you again, can you be seen by someone?”

  Charlotte’s silence told Brain everything he needed to know.

  “Did you ever consider that being seen was about more than just getting what you want?” he asked, moving in closer to her.

  “What do you mean?” Charlotte asked.

  “Your choices impact all of us, Charlotte, not just you,” Brain said sternly. “Interacting with the living, almost without exception, is strictly prohibited. The risk is too high for them… and for us.”

  “Since when have my choices ever mattered?” Charlotte whined. “I don’t want this responsibility. I can barely solve my own problems, let alone everyone else’s.”

  “I’m afraid it is out of your control whether to accept it or not, Charlotte,” Brain replied. “You’re problems are becoming everyone else’s.”

  “Great, I walked in here for a little advice…,” Charlotte said as Brain stared straight ahead, lost in thought.

  “But there is another possibility,” Brain conjectured.

  “And that is?” Charlotte attempted to drag it out of him.

  “Perhaps the fact that you can be seen,” Brain hypothesized, “and the rest of us cannot be, is actually a key to solving your problem… and ours.”

  “Are you saying that I am meant to go to the dance?” Charlotte asked, some hope returning to her voice. “Could it be that the Midnight Kiss is my key to resolution?”